


Little Death

by FayWoods



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, M/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Multi, Not Canon Compliant, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FayWoods/pseuds/FayWoods
Summary: Something is brewing. Something has changed.Harry manages to keep the Prophecy Orb for himself and hides away in Grimauld Place with his godfather, trying to keep himself out of the sphere of Dumbledore's manipulations.Sirius Black may not be as much on the side of the Order of the Pheonix as he appears, neither may Remus.The Black Family sticks together and supports each other no matter what.The Destruction of the Diary healed a big part of Tom Riddle's broken soul and he realises that he has gone too far.hhhh i try to update every week ;-; no promises tho
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 4
Kudos: 158





	1. Of the Chamber

**_|| Of the Chamber ||_ **

Pain. Burning, searing, shattering pain. More pain than Harry had felt ever before; worse than the broken bones Dudley had given him, worse than the hot pan Petunia had hit him over the head with as a child, worse than the ragged knife with which Vernon had carved open his back.

Harry’s arm felt like all those thing together and *worse*.

He gasped for breath, glancing down where the curved, salvia-covered tooth was embedded in his flesh. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes together; trying to blank out Ginny’s swallow breath only steps away, trying to blank out the angered, desperate shouts of the Diary-Ghost. The boy’s grip on the gleaming, pristine sword that had just plunged into the throat of the Basilisk, loosened and it clattered onto the ground.

Harry gripped the fang and ripped it out of his arm with a choked off gasp, his eyes wide open and staring at the deep wound leaking thick, scarlet blood mingled with the sickly, dark-green Basilisk venom. In his other hand the tooth dripped the same blood and poison onto the same floor.

“No! NO! How dare you, you insolente boy!” The Diary-Ghost, the memory of a desperate boy only 4 years older than Harry was now, screamed and shouted and raged, hissed and pleaded. But he did not move from where he stood with the Diary and Ginny laying on the floor, just next to the pool of water, behind which the statue stood from who’s mouth the Basilisk had come what felt like only seconds before. 

The Gryffindor, robes blood-stained and ripped, took a deep breath and steeled himself against the pain in his arm, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to use the burning, bright magic he knew was within him as sure as he knew of the pain in his arm, to close the wound and to stave off the infection. 

Realising the breath moments later, and with it the pain, Harry looked up at the Diary-Ghost, clad in Slytherin Robes, gaining more and more of a physical form as time went on and as Ginny seemed to get ever-paler, her lifeforce drained into the Ghost. 

“You are too late!” Tom hissed, a grin wide on his face even though his eyes still looked around frantic, scared something would go wrong. “She’s already dying and you cannot save her anymore!”

Harry snarled quietly, gritting his teeth and clenching the fist still holding the Basilisk-fang as he stepped forward, legs far more stable than they should be with the venom cursing through his veins. “No. You’re wrong.” The boy hissed in pain but continued walking toward the Diary-Ghost and Ginny and the Diary itself. 

Tom laughed, a laugh Harry knew all too well from last year, from the face on Quirrel’s head, who had laughed the same just before it had screamed in agony when Harry touched Quirrel. 

Harry gripped the memory of that scream and of the agony in his arm, and walked faster, raising the fang high. The Diary-Ghost tried to stop him, but it was still only a ghost and could not do anything but scream and shout for him to “stop this foolishness!”. 

And he let himself fall to his knees and plunged his arm down, embedding the fang in the Diary. He saw nothing, he could not process the signals his eyes were sending. But he heard the screams and sobs, and could feel himself begin to shake and cry together with the Ghost. 

The noises were worse than those of the year before - more desperate, more scared, more … 

Harry grit his teeth and focused on continuing to press the fang into the diary, blocking out the blood he could see pouring out of the small leather journal, blocking out the warm, thick liquid pooling of the hand he had pressed to the floor. 

And Tom - Tom screamed and sobbed as he was ripped apart, and fell to his knees with an agonizing scream that seemed to penetrate every edge of the chamber. 

and then, as suddenly as this whole nightmare had begun, it ended. The blood that had streamed from the diary and stained Harry’s hands, settled, and the Ghost disappeared. 

And Harry? Harry collapsed on the floor next to Ginny, into the pool of blood, and only realised someone came to save him and Ginny when he awoke in Saint Mungo's Hospital, weeks later, and Pomfrey and another Medi-Witch told him that they could not extract all of the Basilisk Venom and that they were so sorry his arm couldn’t be saved but Pomfrey would help him get a good prosthetic as much as she could, and that Hogwarts would absolutely pay for it since it happened on school premises.

\------------------------

Somewhere far away, in a place between time and space, between death and life, a spectre tried to find its way back to a semblance of reality. Voldemort wandered, the small part of his soul that was left seething with anger and contempt at his failure. 

He had been seething for a long time. There had been a while, a short while, where he had seen a light, had thought he could maybe brush away his failure. But no, he failed again, and was once again cursed to wander and never to find. 

But … but something changed. In this moment; this, to Voldemort, completely insignificant moment; something changed so deeply and completely that even in his all-consuming rage, Voldemort stopped in his seething and in his wandering, and listened to his deep red, bloody magic simmering within him, seemingly reaching for something. 

The stunted sliver of a soul held its breath, waited for only a few moments, and then the pain began. Pain that Voldemort had only felt twice before: once when he died in that fateful Samhain night, and once when the Potter boy burned his soul out from underneath his servant’s skin. And now he felt it again - but somehow he knew that it was not the pain that would condemn him to further restless wandering, but a pain that would tether him back to the living world. 

And so he endured, endured until he felt cold snow underneath his bare skin. Endured until he could feel his magic singing within him at the full half of his soul that had just joined with the main again. Endured until he could feel his sanity return, and he could condense the shimmering, seething rage beneath his skin into cold, hard determination. Determination to return to the power he’d once had.  



	2. Of the Graveyard

**_|| Of the Graveyard ||_ **

With two dull thuds and a quiet clank Harry, Cedric, and the Tri-Wizard-Cup landed on dark, cold, damp compressed earth.

The older Hufflepuff groaned at the landing, getting up as soon as he could and starting to mutter about "Where are we? Is this another part of the challenge?" while Harry stayed down on the ground, not having made a single sound when landing, and trying to assess what was actually happening and why it was happening.

They shouldn't be here - Harry knew that much. After getting the cup from the middle of the gods-damned Labyrinth, they were supposed to be teleported back to the beginning where all the other students and teachers and ministry officials and parents and such were watching from, and waiting for them.

This - appearing in an unfamiliar location - should not have happened. At all. And Harry absolutely hated getting surprised like this. It was better to know what would happen and prepare for it than to be thrust into something you had no idea about.

But then again, the young mage had gotten familiar with surprises over the last year more than ever before. Getting chosen to be one of the contestants in a deadly tournament when he'd never wanted to, getting thrown in a pit to fight a *dragon*, the entirety of the tasks in actuality.

And, of course, it wasn't just this year. It was also all the years before that, with Voldemort on the back of Quirrel in first year, the whole Diary-Ghost and the Basilisk and the Chamber and Ginny almost dying and * losing his arm* in second year, Sirius and Remus and finding out who'd actually betrayed his parents in third year, and now this whole Tri-Wizard-Tournament.

In all honesty, Harry was sick of it. Was sick of getting surprised like this. But he supposed he should help Cedric, who was just getting himself off the ground and beginning to ask questions, seemingly directed at the heavy, stale air around them.

Harry sighed quietly and pushed his intricately carved and drawn, magically infused and enforced, porcelain right hand into the ground next to himself, and pushed himself up into a sitting position, looking around with his head cooked in thought, while Cedric began wandering around, trying to find what they were supposed to do.

They had landed in a graveyard, and it was still around the same time of day to Hogwarts - even if the cloud cover was much thicker and the air much colder.

Humming in thought, Harry watched Cedric explore, but his head snapped away from the other student and toward the sound of footsteps, faintly coming from the distance, which only he seemed to have noticed.

He didn't alert Cedric to the sound, left the older student to his searching, and stood up fully to walk toward the sound, drawing his wand already and squinting his eyes with suspicion.

The Gryffindor didn't take the clear path between the gravestones, instead electing to duck behind the gravestones, only turning around to hiss at Cedric to "be quiet!" when the Hufflepuff loudly asked what he was doing.

It took only a few moments for a muttering, sniffling man to appear down the path, holding a small wand in his grimy hands. What of his mutterings Harry could make out seemed to mostly be around someone being too early.

Harry didn't take long to recognize Pettigrew, and also didn't take long to realize that he and Cedric were the ones that were "too early". He glanced back at Cedric, who had continued walking around aimlessly, contemplating if he should warn the other about the Death Eater walking up the path.

After a few moments, Harry sighed and waved to Cedric, trying to get his attention, and hissing out a "quiet down! Someone's coming!" and then turned back to looking where Pettigrew was walking up the pathway still, deciding that that was the extent of his help for the other since he was primarily concerned with keeping *himself* alive.

Pettigrew was getting closer, and Harry tightened his grip on his wand, steeling himself for a fight with the *traitor*.

But it didn't come to that at all. Because after a few more steps from Pettigrew a hissing voice, coming from the bundle of cloth Pettigrew was holding, sounded out. "Wormtail! Kill the spare boy - I only need Potter!" and within seconds, faster than Harry could react, a green bolt flew from Pettigrew's wand and hit Cedric - who had neither hidden nor quieted down - square in the chest.

The Hufflepuff student let out a soundless, voiceless, breathless gasp and fell backward, landing on the ground with the same dull thud with which he'd arrived in the graveyard.

Harry cursed quietly under his breath and backed up, away from Pettigrew and the voice, until his back hit a massive statue of a headstone, and he cursed quietly under his breath. He couldn't turn his back to Pettigrew, he wouldn't give the traitorous rat that advantage over him, but that also meant he was now trapped.

The Gryffindor gripped his wand tightly and steeled himself for Pettigrew to come closer and notice him. And it didn't even take that long until the balding, rat-like traitor stopped in his tracks and raised his wand again, adjusting his grip on the bundle of cloth he held.

"Potter," he hissed out; a pitiful sound that reminded Harry of Vernon when he'd run too far. The Death Eater grimaced as he saw the young student getting into a battle stance, his right, porcelain hand held out in front of him with his wand held aloft, ready to curse Wormtail.

"Pettigrew," Harry answered, louder and more sure of himself than Peter had been, and steeled himself further, bracing against the statue behind him and waiting.

What he was *expecting* Pettigrew to do, was to set down the bundle of cloth so Harry could attack while he wasn't paying attention. What he *did not* expect Pettigre to do was to wave his wand and *animate the statue behind him*.

Which was precisely why Harry was now held against the Statue of Death behind him and why his wand was laying on the grave below him. Because he - once again - had gotten surprised. The Gryffindor was cursing himself internally while watching Pettigrew wobble closer, waving his wand to pull a cauldron out from behind one of the gravestones and over to in front of the grave over which Harry was suspended.

Harry watched with a snarl on his lip, not paying too much attention to the gentle cracking he could hear from his right hand where it was pressed between stone and the metal rod of the statue's scythe, and where the magically-infused porcelain was getting damaged by the pressure.

But the Gryffindor didn't focus on his prosthetic, instead fully focusing on Pettigrew setting up the cauldron and the fire underneath, and also trying to figure out what that bundle of cloth was. But that second question stayed in the back of Harry's mind since Pettigrew began filling the cauldron with water from a simple Aquamenti and started putting different pre-prepared potion ingredients in the slowly-beginning-to-boil water.

He'd stopped struggling against the restraints about halfway through Pettigrew's preparations, instead focusing intently on what the Death Eater was doing and trying to figure out what he was trying to achieve.

The Potion Wormtail was beginning to brew was not one Harry was familiar with, even with how involved in his studies he'd gotten with the help of his Ravenclaw Friends; Hermione and Luna; since losing his arm Second year.

But he knew every single one of the ingredients used and tried, through knowing what they did in potions he knew, to find out what they were supposed to do in this unknown one.

\-------------------------------

Harry was *still* trying to figure out what the potion was for when Pettigrew came walking back from wherever he'd wandered off to - apparently to get the rather large, silvered ritual dagger he now held in his hand, a very *very* hesitant look on his face.

The bundle of cloth on the ground next to the ground - Harry had almost forgotten about it - began to shift and the same hissing, commanding voice that had told Pettigrew to kill Cedric spoke once again.

"Wormtail! Faster, I wish to return to a true body as soon as possible!" it said, and Pettigrew rushed to stand behind the cauldron much faster, his stout body heaving with apparent fear.

He picked up the bundle of cloth, a grimace appearing on his face for just a moment though it disappeared as soon as he lifted the bundle. He held it above the cauldron with a hesitant look on his face but when the voice urged him to "Begin!" he grimaced once again and repositioned one hand to only hold the cloth, the other still supporting whatever was held within.

Then Pettigrew let go of the thing within and a small, almost child-like thing; though far too pale and thin and *wrong*; tumbled out and into the bubbling, steaming potion, which began hissing and boiling loudly the moment it hit the water. 

It dissolved extremely quickly and the before green-tinted potion changed to a deep deep red. Harry's eyes widened, finally realizing what the potion was for. While it *seemed* to be a somewhat wrongly brewed healing potion with no real ailment in mind, he now *knew* without a shadow of a doubt that it was a potion to *build a body*. For Voldemort.

The Gryffindor's entire body froze up as Pettigrew drew his wand and began the ritual, starting the unfamiliar chant.

"Bone of the Father, unknowingly taken, you will revive your son!" the rat said and waved his wand, a femur rising from the grave over which Harry was suspended, floating over the cauldron and dissolving into dust before floating gently into the now strongly bubbling potion, which changed from the deep red to a gentle pastel blue, the bubbling subsiding.

Pettigrew grimaced and sheathed his wand, reading the ritual knife in his hand. "Flesh of the Servant, willingly given, you will revive your master!" The grimace deepened and Pettigrew raised his arm over the cauldron, holding the knife just at his wrist.

He squeezed his eyes shut before cutting off his left hand with a pained choke, his hand falling into the potion and changing it to a midnight black with thick, red smoke rising up into the air, shielding Pettigrew from Harry's gaze.

That was, until the man came around the cauldron, blood pouring from his now hand-less wrist and the still bloody knife still within his hand.

"Blood of the Enemy," Pettigrew continued, heaving and gasping painfully between words, "forcefully taken, you will let your foe rise again!"

Harry grit his teeth and tried to pull away as Pettigrew reached up toward his left arm with the ritual knife and cut just below his wrist, making a deep incision that bled a wave of thick, red liquid down Harry's arm.

Pettigrew was still heaving as he let the knife fall and pulled out his wand to pull the blood away from the wound and toward the cauldron, letting it fall into and thus changing the potion to a completely still, see-through liquid that seemed somewhat foreboding.

As Pettigrew walked back to stand behind the cauldron, away from Harry, the Gryffindor wasn't even paying attention to the traitorous rat anymore, instead completely focused on the potion. He only heard the last of the ritual chant from a distance, not truly focusing or processing.

"A new body will be forged from the bones of your father, the flesh of your servant, and the blood of your enemy! The Dark Lord will rise again!" Wormtail chanted, raising his arms up in the hand with his cut-off wrist still bleeding quite profusely - maybe even more than Harry's arm.

The potion began boiling once again, slowly at first but faster and faster, the before see-through liquid becoming disturbed by the bubbling. Pettigrew stepped back, though Harry didn't even notice, still completely focused on the potion.

It continued boiling until it suddenly turned into a thick, red mass, and began condensing within the cauldron. Harry watched, more fascinated than disturbed or fearful - and wasn't that something he'd probably think about far too much while walking around the castle in the middle of the night if he got back to Hogwarts - as a body began rising out of the cauldron, covered in the thick liquid as it slowly began growing.

The cauldron was consumed by the potion, by this growing body, as well and after what felt both like an eternity and like a singular moment, the potion rolled off the newly-formed Lord Voldemort and disappeared into thin air.

Harry watched, eyes wide in fascination, as Voldemort raised his hand in front of his blood-red eyes, looking as fascinated as Harry was, inspecting his new body. He reached up to the top of his head and traced his fingers through the thick, black, gentle locks that fell to just above his ears.

A small, deep laugh left Voldemort as his fingers traced down and over his sharp, immaculate face, tracing the thin lips and nose, pulling down over his jawline and pulling away from his chin.

Pettigrew had run off to somewhere the moment the body started forming, and now came back with black robes slung over his good arm, which he offered to Lord Voldemort with a reverent: "Master."

Tom took the offered clothing and pulled it over his bare body - which Harry hadn't actually noticed, so transfixed on his foe's face.

"Thank you, Wormtail." And wasn't that an interesting sound, Voldemort's new voice. That hissing quality Harry had grown familiar with in First and Second year was gone; instead, it was a deep, rumbling sound that almost seemed inviting.

Harry was still staring at Voldemort's new face when the man's gaze turned on the Gryffindor, making him shiver. "And there you are, my young foe. You have witnessed maybe my most ingenious invention - you have witnessed my true and final resurrection."

The Dark Lord grinned - and even that wouldn't have scared Harry if he didn't know who the man in front of him was. "And you have helped with it." Voldemort stepped forward and reached up. Harry reared back as far as he could - which really wasn't that far with the statue behind him - and Tom simply smiled before placing a single finger on the teen’s forehead, right where the lightning scare began to carve down across Harry’s face. 

"I really should thank you for giving me your blood - without it, I could not touch you. I'm sure you remember poor Quirrel. Well, that will not happen anymore, because your *cursed* blood now runs through my veins as well."

Gritting his teeth tightly, Harry was frozen up even more with Voldemort touching him, and was very relieved when the Dark Lord pulled his hand away. The young student snarled quietly as Tom stepped away and ground out "I would never have helped you willingly!" with as much malice as he could manage.

Tom laughed - longer than he had when he'd felt his new head for the first time - deep and rumbling, a laugh that echoed throughout the graveyard and made Harry almost balk at how inviting and non-threatening it sounded. He was *relaxing* as the man that killed his parents laughed at his attempt to not be intimidated. He was beginning to feel *safe* in the presence of his parents’ murderer. 

"Oh Harry~" Voldemort almost purred at him stepping forward again - which was totally the last thing Harry wanted him to do -, making the teen freeze up again, eyes wide. The Wizard reached up with one hand again, and gripped the teen's chin gently.

"I am aware that you wouldn't have - that is why dear Peter had to restrain you above my father's grave." Tom smiled and turned away from Harry once again, toward Pettigrew who was holding his left stump under his right arm while holding out a bone-bleached wand toward Voldemort.

Tom smiled gently at his servant and reached out, taking the wand and tracing the length of it. "You have done well, Wormtail," he said with a smile and Peter whimpered, bowing before the Dark Lord. "Thank you, Master, thank you!" he said, bowing even deeper.

"Give me your arm, Wormtail," Tom said, a quiet command that almost made Harry want to offer his own. Pettigrew seemed to go even deeper and pulled his stump of a hand out toward his master with even more "thank you"s.

Voldemort, however, waved away the cut off hand and snarled quietly. "Your other arm, Wormtail. I must call young Barty to me to make sure my most loyal servant is safe from Dumbledore's clutches."

Wormtail continued whimpering but pulled back his stump and offered his right arm, where the Dark Mark prominently stood out from his skin, deep black and *writhing* underneath Pettigrew's skin in the presence of its creator.

Tom smiled gently down at the mark and raised his wand, pressing it gently on the skin - making the Dark Mark go even darker and writhe even further. Pettigrew whimpered again, holding his arm just above the mark.

Pulling his wand away again and putting it away within his robes. "Now, we wait for Barty." Tom smiled over at Harry, something that was somehow both malicious and inviting and that made Harry shiver and freeze up within his binds.

Tom pulled away after a few moments, beginning to pace with the graveyard while Pettigrew had disappeared somewhere outside of Harry's view, though his whimpering could still be heard.

The tell-tale crack of apparation interrupted the quiet, tense atmosphere, as Barty Crouch Jr. - still in the middle of his de-transformation from the polyjuice potion Harry had known had been in Moody's flask since the second week of the year - appeared stumbling in the graveyard with a gasped "My Lord!"

Voldemort turned toward his servant with a flourish of his robes, smiling down at Barty where he had fallen to his knees and walked to the young Death Eater, who was looking up at his newly resurrected Master with wide eyes.

"Ah, Barty, it is good to see you safely back with me." Tom smiled widely and laid his hand on Barty's head as he got to the young mage. Barty seemed to be pulled in a trance, smiling up at the Dark Lord and nodding slowly.

"My Lord ..." the young mage slurred with a sigh and Voldemort pulled his hand back with a hum. "You should really go back to the Manor - I can feel your exhaustion from here," the older mage said with a smile and herded Barty away from Harry, out of the graveyard, even while the Death Eater was weakly protesting, saying he wanted to help.

Harry had frozen up in his binds once again the moment Voldemort had placed his hand on Barty's head. The mage had relaxed so much, looking as if he felt safer than Harry had ever felt before in his entire short life. Why was a Death Eater awarded such safety, was being kept safe by such a strong mage as Tom Marvolo Riddle, while Harry was scared every single year that he would not survive the summer?

Why was this world so very unfair? Harry didn't know, and Harry didn't get much time to think about it as Voldemort returned from wherever he and Barty had disappeared to.

The older mage stayed quiet as he approached and Harry once again began struggling, trying to loosen the grip of the statue, and snarled at Voldemort - unwillingly in Parsletongue: "What are you trying to accomplish with keeping me alive? Are you trying to bring me to your side? Is that what you're doing?"

Tom stopped in his tracks, his head falling to one side, and his eyebrows pulling together as he listened to Harry ranting and snarling in a language the mage had thought only he possessed. "It won't work! There's no way it will work! You killed. My. Parents!"

Harry grit his teeth and looked away from those deep red eyes that seemed to dissect every single atom in the teen's body, but he continued snarling at Voldemort, though quieter than before, almost not wanting to show these things to his enemy.

"You took the only people that loved me away from me. You are the reason Sirius was put in Azkaban. You are the reason Remus couldn't take me in. You are the reason I had to live with my *fucking aunt* for the last 13 years. You are the reason for *everything* bad that has happened to me!"

The Gryffindor took a deep, shuddering breath, and bit his lip, whispering out the last of his words more toward the ground than at Tom. "I will *never* join you."

Before Harry could look up again, could throw lightning through his eyes toward the Dark Lord, a wordless stunning spell hit him right in the chest and he sacked back against the statue unconsciously.

Tom walked up to the unconscious teen, waving his free hand to make the statue release him, and caught Harry when he fell down. "Aren't you an interesting young man, dear Harry," he muttered while carrying the teen toward the still discarded cup on the ground a few steps away.

"You won't die this night, oh no. And you might just take your promise back." Voldemort smiled and laid the boy down, summoning the discarded wand over to him and tucking it into Harry's robes. "You've now made me very interested in you - I hope you are aware of that."

With that, the mage used his wand to levitate Cedric's dead body to the cup as well, and charmed the two bodies to touch the cup - instantly transporting them back to Hogwarts where chaos was bound to have taken place and was bound to take place at that very moment.

\---------------------------------

Draco had been tense for the last half hour, since the moment Harry had entered the maze. Which also meant that Blaise had been desperately trying to make Draco calm down without the two older Malfoy's sitting right behind them noticing.

The dark-skinned Slytherin had just gripped Draco's hand, hidden from the other's parents by their robes, when two dull thuds and a quiet clank sounded from the area in front of the stands, and both Harry and Cedric arrived with the Tri-Wizard-Cup. Both looked dead, lying on the floor unmoving.

Of course, this meant that Draco got even tense and tried to stand up from where he was sitting, only held back by Blaise gripping his hand and quickly leaning over to whisper: "You can't run down and exclaim your crush on Potter in front of everyone, including your parents! Stay here, he has friends that will rush down."

The blonde glanced over at his boyfriend, worry written all over his expression and how tightly he was gripping Blaise's hand. "Okay ..." he whispered and pressed himself toward Blaise - still trying to be subtle but not managing much.

Once the two Champions had appeared Hermione had instantly rushed down through the stands and to her friend's side, her blue and bronze Ravenclaw Prefect symbol shining in the high-standing sun. "Harry!" she shouted, followed closely behind by her housemates Luna and Cho, with Cho running toward Cedric's body and Luna to Harry with Hermione.

The dark-skinned Ravenclaw fell down on her knees next to her friend and quickly checked him over for wounds, gasping when she turned his left arm over and saw the deep, bloody gash. "He's wounded!" she shouted, not turning away from Harry, hoping that Pomfrey or *someone* would come and help.

While Hermione tried to shake Harry awake and checked him over for more wounds, Cho had just noticed that Cedric wasn't breathing anymore and almost stopped herself before looking up toward Amos Diggory, Cedric's father, with tears in her eyes and whispered out so quietly only someone completely focused on what she was saying could hear her: "He's ... he's not breathing."

Amos *was* completely focused on what Cho was saying and his eyes ripped open, completely blanking out the chaos that had started happening around him on the stands, standing up from his seat extremely slowly and pushing through the crowd down toward his son, walking faster with every second until he was running the last few steps, falling down next to Cedric with a pained scream, gathering up Cedric in his arms and pulling him close to his chest, muttering for his son to wake up.

Hermione had blanked out Amos' screams, still trying to get Harry awake as Pomfrey pushed through the crowds that had gotten down from the stands and knelt down next to Hermione, checking Harry's pulse. "He's still stable," the medi-witch muttered and took out her wand, levitating the body up in the air.

She looked over at Cedric, which Amos was holding in his arms while still trying to get him to wake, and shook her head sadly before walking off toward the castle, Hermione running behind her, not wanting to leave her friend's side.

Blaise squeezed Draco's hand and smiled over at him gently. "There you see it - he'll be fine. You'll get another chance to scream your love for him in front of the entire school, half the ministry, and your parents," the Italian muttered, which got him a scathing look from his boyfriend before Draco focused on what was going on around Cedric again.

Dumbledore and Fudge had made it to the Hufflepuff Champion and his father, and Amos and given Cedric's body over to Cho to stand up and start shouting at Dumbledore about how *dare* he have let this happen. Fudge just seemed happy the anger of a grieving father wasn't directed at him, though wrung his hands seemingly scared of the ramifications that would be directed at him later.

While Blaise tried to calm his boyfriend down and Draco was trying to act as if he was interested in what was happening in front of the stands while all his thoughts were occupied by the Gryffindor currently being brought into the medical wing, Narcissa Malfoy had made a decision.

She wasn't unobservant and had noticed her son's tenseness from the beginning of the task - and his fear when Harry and Cedric arrived. And now she decided she would help her son's ... friend, she supposed. Indirectly, of course, can't have it get out that the Malfoys cared for Harry Potter of all people. But it was well known that Narcissa was a fierce protector of children, and so she decided to use that to her advantage.

Narcissa Malfoy stood from her seat in the stands behind her son and turned to go down. Lucius, noticing his wife's movement, followed behind her, determined to support his wife in whatever she had decided to do.

Draco watched his parents approach Dumbledore, kind of wanting to follow but also wanting to stay in the safety of sitting beside Blaise. In the end, he decided to stay since neither his father nor his mother had made any indication to him that he was needed in this conversation.

The two Malfoys' approach didn't stay unnoticed and Fudge was quick to walk toward Lucius, starting a conversation about the unbelievability of a child dying in these Challenges when they had made so very sure they would not be lethal like the historic ones had been. Lucius, glancing at his wife for a moment to make sure she'd be fine talking to Dumbledore alone and getting a subtle nod back from her, stayed with Fudge and agreed with him, keeping the Minister in a conversation.

Meanwhile, Narcissa approached Dumbledore with a lethal, though gentle-appearing smile on her face. Amos, who was still arguing with Dumbledore, still in tears about his son's death, stopped in the middle of his sentence as she came to stand beside him and gave her a slightly frightened nod.

Narcissa smiled at the former Hufflepuff before turning her gaze on Dumbledore, clasping her hands in front of her body. "Headmaster Dumbledore," she began, "this is the fourth year in a row that students at this school have been endangered."

She straightened her stance, her smile falling as Dumbledore seemed to tense. "Especially Mister Potter. One could almost argue that you are trying to hurt the boy. I hope for you that that is not true." Her smile appeared again and she relaxed slightly as Dumbledore's eyes widened.

"I hope you are aware that I *will* bring this issue up with the other parents - our children should be able to study safely and without the threat of death hanging over their heads every year. Especially those that lost their parents in the war."

With that she nodded to Amos once again and threw a scathing look toward Dumbledore before turning around and walking to where her husband and Fudge were talking. She touched Lucius on his arm gently and smiled at Fudge. “Excuse us, Minister. But we really must leave - someone has to make sure the children will be truly safe at this school next year, after all.”


	3. Of the Department of Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *scrambles in dumbass* UH HI??? I guess I'm giving you an extra chapter right now???
> 
> uh btw this is totally un-betad  
> just for your information

**_|| Of the Department of Mysteries ||_ **

Harry stumbled down the long rows of high shelves, every inch covered in crystal balls swirling with untouchable smoke inside. He could feel his friends beside and behind him and hoped against hope that they would all make it out of this unscathed.

Flashes of curses flew between, over, and beside the group of teens, and behind them, they could hear the shouts and running footsteps of the Death Eaters. They continued trying to get away, turning back every now and again to throw back their own curses and spells.

Long, ginger locks flew in front of Ginny's face as she turned and threw a "Stupor!" over her shoulder. She didn't hit the lanky Death Eater she'd been aiming for. Instead, her spell hit one of the shelves, blasting a supporting leg out from under it. The Gryffindor's eyes widened and she turned back around fully, urging her friends on while behind them the shelves began collapsing with the sounds of crashing glass.

Clutching the Crystal Ball he was holding - the one thing that had a recording of the prophecy that had dictated his whole life - Harry ran faster, wanting to get away and listen, truly listen, to the prophecy.

And then there was Sirius, who was apparently safe. But that information had come from a burly looking, masked Death Eater who Harry didn’t know nor trust at all and so he desperately hoped to get some sign that the mage had actually told him the truth.

Harry turned a corner, the first of the group to do so, and almost ran into the black, stone-hewn door right behind the corner. He scrambled to stop before he did, making the rest of the group slow down as well.

Hermione rushed forward, ripping the door open, still panting from running. "Come ON guys! Let's go!" She was glancing around at the rest of the group, who seemed to stay frozen for a few moments before all of the teens quickly rushed through the door.

Harry was the last one to get through and the one to pull the door closed behind them, just catching a glance of Bellatrix's wild head of locks and gleaming, silver mask. He turned away from the door after pulling it closed, taking in the room they'd run into.

The group had entered a large room with a high ceiling, a floor that seemed to be taken right from the top of a mountain with its rough stone and the gentle wind that was somehow blowing in a room deep underground, and a stone arch in the middle that made Harry freeze up.

There it stood, in this completely silent room seemingly untouched by the chaos that had just happened outside. Harry couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the shifting, mist-like veil that hung within the archway. And he could swear that there were voices whispering from it, calling to him in a language he'd never heard before but was *sure* he could understand as if it was his native tongue.

That trance didn't last long, Hermione running up to shake him and pull him away from the door and toward the trench that went along the walls of the room. "Come on Harry! We have to get ready for when they get through the door!"

He nodded mutely and tightened his grip on the Prophecy orb as he and the rest of the students hid within the trench, all of their eyes on the door and all their wands at the ready for the inevitable continuation of the fight.

The didn't have to wait long as the door was ripped open by Bellatrix, her mask glittering in the dim light that seemed to come from the high ceiling, and her wand pointed out in front of her. She didn't see them - thank the gods - and stopped for a few moments in which the rest of the Death Eaters gathered behind her.

Harry couldn't see her face behind the silver mask but he could swear she must be grinning as she glanced around the room. "Come out, come out wherever you are, young ones," she called and stepped further into the room, three silent male Death Eaters right behind her.

The entire group of students held their breaths, most of them focused on Harry and what he would do, while the black-haired teen was entranced by Bellatrix's prowl around the room.

She called out again, turning around herself in an attempt to spot them. "Well now, if you come out and give me that Prophecy, I'll let all of your little friends go, Harry~" Her voice seemed inviting, motherly, and Harry was almost tempted to do as she'd asked - if it wasn't for him wanting, *needing*, to keep that crystal ball containing his and Voldemort's, Tom's, future for himself.

And so Harry took a deep breath and gripped both his wand and the orb tighter, tensing up and making the entire group get ready to rush into battle as well. Taking another breath, Harry gave a quiet comment to the rest of the group: "Let's fight."

Bellatrix had her back turned to the group of teens as they all got up from behind the shielding rock and shot the first curses - stunners, all of them - at the group of Death Eaters. But she quickly swiveled back around toward them and threw a red bolt of magic, a disarming spell.

It hit Harry, who didn't even try to fight against his wand flying behind him, more focused on keeping the Prophecy orb safe. He ducked down into the trench again and gestured for the rest to continue fighting as he scooped up his wand and ran, hidden by the stone, around the back.

Ginny followed behind him, understanding what he was trying to do. Once the two came to almost the opposite side of the room to the rest of the group, they looked at each other for only a moment before looking up from the trench and firing stunning spells and disarming hexes at the backs of the four Death Eaters focused on their friends.

The group managed to get the upper hand for a few minutes - even getting one of the four Death Eaters stunned - but then more of the masked, black-robed mages entered and they got overwhelmed within moments.

Very soon Ginny was pulled away from Harry's side and the teen could hear the rest of the group struggling against the Death Eaters that had apparated right behind them. He jumped out of the trench to get out of the small space, getting to stand right across from Bellatrix.

She'd lost her mask somewhere in the fight and now her gentle smile and inquisitive eyes met him directly. Her head was turned to the side a bit and Harry's focus turned entirely to her, only hearing his friends' struggles at the edge of his consciousness.

"Ah, there you are, Harry~" she sing-songed and the teen grit his teeth tightly, his grip on the Prophecy orb and in his wand tightening. Bellatrix didn't even have her wand pointed at him, instead electing to reach out with her free hand and try to grip his chin.

The teen grit his teeth tighter and raised his wand up. "I can't do that," he muttered and pulled the Prophecy orb tighter to his chest. They seemed to be in a stalemate, Bellatrix seemingly like she didn't want to raise her wand against Harry and Harry not wanting to start the fight that could make him lose the only precious thing he had right now.

The stalemate between the two could have lasted for only seconds or entire hours, neither of them was really sure. But it was broken by the arrival of the Order of the Phoenix - and Sirius - apparating into the room and immediately pulling the Death Eaters into a fight, forcing them to let go of the teens.

Bellatrix almost got surprised by Molly Weasley's stunner aimed at her back but managed to twirl around and throw up a protective shield. Harry clutched the Prophecy orb close to his chest, his wand hanging limply from his hand as he tried to get as far away from the fighting as possible.

He saw Sirius a few steps away from the Veil, fighting one of the face-less, name-less Death Eaters. The teen quickly shifted his grip on the orb and raised his wand throwing a stunner right into the Death Eater's back, taking them by surprise and forcing them to stumble back and away from Sirius.

The black-haired mage whipped around toward Harry and quickly ran over, firing stunners of left and right on the way until he could pull Harry further away from the heat of battle.

"Harry! You're alright, that's ... that's good." Sirius grinned down at him widely and Harry smiled back - though his expression was more of a grimace than a smile. The former Gryffindor raised one eyebrow and silently gestured to the swirling Crystal Orb Harry was still clutching to his chest.

Taking a deep breath, Harry pressed his lips together tightly. "I can't let *anyone* have this," he whispered while looking down at the orb and clutching it closer before looking back up at his godfather who nodded slowly. "Alright," Sirius said quietly.

He pulled out a rag from somewhere within the depths of his robes and handed it to Harry for the teen to hide the Prophecy orb under. "There you go. Alright, we'll get everyone out now. If you don't want Dumbledore to have that, keep it hidden." Sirius grinned at Harry, though concern shone behind his eyes, and Harry nodded slowly and smiled back half-heartedly.

Sirius turned around and pulled Harry against his side, pointing his wand toward his throat and casting a soronus. "Let's get the kids back home!" he shouted toward the Order and immediately disapparated with Harry, just getting out of the way of a stunner from Bellatrix, just hearing her laugh at her cousin's antics.


	4. Family Found

**||** **_Family Found ||_ **

The two landed in the courtyard of Grimauld place. A small garden only accessible by Sirius himself and Harry; since he was Sirius' Heir; that the two had been using since the beginning of the summer no more than two weeks ago to talk freely and away from the prying eyes of the Order.

The rest of the group would probably apparate to Hogwarts, considering it *was* the safest place and everyone at once aparating to the doorstep of Grimmauld Place wouldn't work out very well for anyone involved.

Sirius stabilized Harry as the two mages landed within the garden, the teen's legs almost buckling beneath him. He managed to hold himself up with his godfather's help and breathed in deeply.

The two sat down on one of the bone-white benches that littered the courtyard and Harry heaved a sigh of relief. He raised the cloth-covered Prophecy orb from where he'd been clutching it to his chest, and pulled the cloth away.

Both mages watched the smoke swirling inside, Sirius not pressing Harry at all as the teen seemed to get lost within the smoke. Almost as if in a trance, Harry laid his hand on the top of the orb.

It took only moments from the contact and Harry feeding his magic into the crystal, that the smoke cleared and both mages could see a person with snow-white hair and gaunt features within. Sirius gasped as he saw her and muttered a single word that made Harry realize who the person reminded him of:

"Pandora."

Pandora. Luna's mother, who died in a potion accident when the young Ravenclaw was 9 years old. Pandora who was now talking in a voice that sounded like she knew absolutely everything there was to know within the vast universe. Pandora, who now spoke that one short Prophecy that had dictated Harry's life for the last 15 years, even before he'd been born.

"One marked by Death will be born. One marked by Death will live. One marked by Death will be born when the 7th month dies.

Two Equals will emerge. Two Equals to return balance. Two Equals will emerge and banish the enemy of magic.

A Third to oppose the Equals. A Third grasping for power. A Third manipulating the Equals against each other.

Two wars begun by One broken soul. Two wars fought by Two equal souls. Two wars decided by Three hardened souls.

One for safety. One for war. One to watch them all." 

Both Sirius and Harry seemed to be locked in a trance as the Prophecy ended and the image of Pandora Lovegood was once again consumed by the swirling smoke of the crystal ball.

The older of the two mages let out a breathy laugh and leaned back. "So *that's* that godsdamned Prophecy. Fuck. Dumbledore you old slimy bastard." Sirius laughed again, though the sound tethered off into a sigh while Harry chuckled beside him, wrapping the cloth back around the Prophecy Orb.

"Yeah ..." The young Gryffindor breathed deeply.

"You know ... I could close Grimmauld Place off. Keep the Order out for good." Sirius scratched under his chin and raised his eyebrow at his godson, who seemed to be lost in thought. "If we do that we gotta do it quick though. Wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore sent them all through my Floo as soon as possible."

Harry snorted at that and shook his head gently. "Let's do that then. I ... I really don't think I'll be able to deal with any of them again for a long while."

Both got off the bench and walked into the Townhouse, Sirius immediately calling for Kreacher and having the elf get everything ready to close the house off to anyone else. They'd be sending the belongings of the others that they'd left behind through the Floo to Hogwarts once they were done, just to make sure there would be no reason for anyone to bother them.

Harry put down the Prophecy Orb to the side of the kitchen as Sirius waved his wand and moved the dinner table away, opening up an area in front of the Floo. Both mages worked in tandem, almost as if they'd been doing so for years.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they began setting up the ritual to close the house off to anyone but those they let in. Sirius didn't seem too concerned about keeping up the Fidelius or even renewing it, only setting up to close off the Floo and strengthen the wards around the Townhouse.

It didn't take them more than a few minutes to have everything set up and Sirius stepped into the middle of the Ritual circle they'd set up in front of the Floo, facing away from the Fireplace and gesturing for Harry to take his place in front of him, outside of the circle.

The older mage grinned brightly as he raised his wand in front of his face and began reciting the ritualistic phrases that would keep them safe for the foreseeable future.

Harry had kneeled down to touch the salt-lines that made up the circle in which Sirius stood, feeding his magic into it to strengthen the wards while not technically being involved in the ritual and therefore not in danger of facing backlash, should it go wrong.

\----------------------------

Sealing off the Floo and strengthening the wards took about an hour, and by then it was already midnight since Harry and the others had left so late as to not arise suspicion from anyone they'd pass either within the Order Headquarters or within the Ministry.

Harry tried to convince Sirius that he really *really* didn't need sleep, but the older mage was having none of it and practically forced him upstairs and into one of the rooms.

"I'll have Kreacher go through the rooms and get everything set up nice tomorrow. Dumbledore's kept me so closely monitored I couldn't even get comfortable in my own home. Shame, really. The house can look really homey if you don't let it rot for 10+ years." Sirius snorted as he opened one of the doors for Harry.

"What about-" Harry tried to ask, but Sirius stopped him. "Kreacher has already gotten all of their things together, I'll get them to Hogwarts with his help. You need sleep, and a lot of it."

Harry nodded, though he was pouting slightly, and walked over to one of the beds. He was once again clutching the Prophecy Orb, somehow comforted by its presence in his hands. "Alright," the teen said to himself, "sleep. We can do that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was in a room that reminded him painfully of the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. There was a fireplace next to the plush armchair he was sitting in, projecting warmth into the room.

The chair across from him was occupied by a tall figure, clothed in long flowing black robes that somehow reminded him of those that Tom had worn in his fourth year but also of the Veil that hung in the stone archway.

Their face was ... gaunt. In all honesty, it could hardly be called a face, just bone covered in a thin, see-through layer of skin. But somehow it didn't make Harry recoil away from the form, even though they looked as if the dead had risen from the ground.

No, the teen felt actually fairly safe in the presence of the figure, even as they raised a bone-thin hand up to their lips and swallowed down a red liquid that could be wine or blood, the teen could not tell.

Death - for who else could that figure truly be - hummed gently and waved their free hands to float a glass of warm butterbeer from beside the fire over to Harry.

“Drink, little Death. I kept it warm for you while you kept me waiting.” Their voice was … familiar, almost. A layering of different voices of all caidances, lows and highs. A choir that came together to form something so safe that Harry wanted to sink into that word and fall asleep for all eternity.

He took the offered glass and began to drink, warm liquid flowing down his throat and relaxing him even more. “Thank you …” he muttered quietly as he set the glass down on a table beside his chair.

“I’m … uh, sorry for keeping you waiting.” He grimaced slightly and scratched behind his ear. Harry didn’t want to disappoint Death. That was something he knew, though he didn’t know why he was so adamant that the being liked him.

The figure chuckled and set down their own glass, leaning back into their chair. “It was no hardship waiting for you, little one. And I’ve been around for such a long time it was hardly a long wait in the grand scheme of things.”

Making a gesture with their arm, the being waved away Harry’s concerns. “No no, trust me, I am simply very happy that you are now finally here with me, Little Death. Tell me, do you now feel safe? I know you did not before, not truly, but I hope you do now.”

They clasped their hands in front of themself and the expression their skull-like face was looking at Harry with, made the boy think they were smiling. He trusted them, believed them that they were truly happy to see him.

"I ..." The boy stopped for a moment and picked up his butterbeer again, taking a sip to steady his nerves. "I suppose I feel safe. I definitely feel safer than I did before Sirius and I closed off the Floo and strengthened the wards. I'm ..."

He stopped again, thinking about what he wanted to say. "I suppose I'm quite afraid of Dumbledore. He left me with the Dursleys, and he left Sirius in Azkaban. Perhaps he just didn't know how cruel they were, but ..."

The being growled out something in a guttural language that made Harry lookup with wide eyes. It was the same language that had come from the Veil in the Ministry. He could ... understand the words on the same level he always understood Parseltongue, even before he could put a name to it.

Death was cursing softly for a few moments before straightening up. "He knew. Dumbledore always knew, my little one. I am so very sorry I could not help you before, but I promise you that you will not have to return to them. Ever."

Harry nodded, caught off guard by the protectiveness that laced Death's many-layered voice. The being sighed and smiled, sinking back into a more comfortable position. "I apologise if I scared you, little one."

Shaking his head furiously Harry had the sudden urge to rush out of his chair and into this wholey familiar and safe being's arms, to reassure them that they had nothing to apologise for. "No, you didn't scare me. I ... I'm happy I'm here now."

Death laughed gently and nodded along. "Very well then. Thank you, little one, for being here. You can trust your godfather, I assure you. He has only your safety and best interest on his mind. And you can trust those he trusts - even if you did not trust them yourself yet."

He pulled his eyebrows together, thinking who they could mean. "Who would Sirius trust that I don't? I ... I trust Remus, and that's the only one in the Order that he seems to trust at all. Well, if you can even say that Remus is part of the Order with how distant he is from them and how much he seems to despise Dumbledore."

"Ah, little one, I'm sure you'll find that out for yourself. But you are right, the wolf does not trust Dumbledore's Flock. He is right not to, as is your godfather. Yours is not the only life the old man has meddled with.”

Harry hummed in thought, pulling his eyebrows together again. "Can I ask you something?" he said finally, after a few minutes of comfortable silence within the room.

Death raised one of their eyebrows and nodded. "Of course, little one. You can ask me anything you wish and I promise that I will answer truthfully."

Nodding, Harry leaned back and thought for a few moments again before asking his question. "What were the actual circumstances of Remus being turned? I somehow know that what Dumbledore told me was ... wrong."

A deep, rumbling chuckle filled the room and Death grinned widely. "Your instincts are very good, little Death. Yes, Dumbledore did not tell you the truth." The being leaned back in their chair and picked up their glass of blood from the table next to them again, taking a sip before continuing.

"Remus Lupin was turned by Fenrir Greyback. That much is true. Lyal Lupin, your former teacher's father, was a werewolf hunter with the Ministry. That you know as well. But you didn't know that Lyal Lupin was specifically targeting packs that were not involved in the war, those that were trying to simply live. He even attacked them on land that rightfully belonged to them."

They sighed and looked over at Harry, only to see the teen listening closely, making Death chuckle again.

"Lyal Lupin was the main reason for most the Packs to even consider joining Voldemort, and the one to push them to do so when he attacked their territories and their young." Death raised their glass, swirling the red liquid within around gently.

"Fenrir Greyback was only 22 years old when he came across Remus, bloody and beaten, at the edge of the forest to the back of the Lupin residence. The pup was 3 years old. Fenrir turned him and took him to his - at that point - small pack. He raised the boy until he was 11."

Death sighed again and grimaced slightly. "At that point Dumbledore found Remus again. He forced the boy back to Lyal Lupin and to Hogwarts. Of course, he managed to find friends in your father, mother, and godfather, but he still would never forgive Dumbledore for taking him from his true family, from his pack."

Harry pulled his eyebrows together again, thinking. "But ... Why did he take Dumbledore's offer to teach in my 3rd year then? If he hated him?"

The being smiled. "Because he wanted to make sure you were alright. Of course, that meant he had to poison himself with the Wolfsbane for a full year, but he took that ürice for being able to see you again. He considers you his pup as much as Fenrir considers Remus his, you know."

Laughing quietly in disbelief, Harry let himself fall back into the chair again. "Wow ... Dumbledore really managed to keep a lot of things hidden from the general public, huh? Old manipulative bastard ..."

Chuckling, Death nodded along. "Yes, that is who he is. Now." They cleared their throat and sat up straighter. "I'm afraid it is time for you to wake up, Little Death. Take care, and remember what I told you."

Harry nodded and smiled. "I can trust Sirius, and whoever Sirius trusts. Yes, I'll remember." He hummed quietly and then smiled brighter. "Thank you ... for ... this." He gestured vaguely and Death laughed.

"Always. I'll always be here for you, Little Death."


End file.
